Zelta could only imagine the amount of pain that King MacIntyre was going through right now. He kept on groaning and yearning out his voice as he suffered in severe agony. The more he held the box, the more brightly it shone.
Zelta began to reason, if this was what royal blood was accustomed to doing, then she wished she wasn't one. The pressure was just too much for her to cope with. Trying hard not to make any mistake that may result in destruction to the realm, and the pain the King was suffering, was enough to make Zelta freak out. No one else was meant to assist the King in taking this burden. The priest even stopped the men who were steered up to save their beloved King, making it clear to them that the cup was for the King and the King alone. He was on his own now, all alone.
Right now the light increased so much, that no one could look directly at it. The smoke was completely absorbed, and the high-pitched voices ceased.
Thud!
